


four lies and a truth

by convenientmisfires



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Five Times, Modern AU, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scars, Soulmates, pregnancy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/pseuds/convenientmisfires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something inevitable about them. In a sense, it's almost like they were always meant to be together, no matter the circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	four lies and a truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victorias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorias/gifts).



> happy valentines day, in this universe and all the others where Marcus and Abby are canon!

 

 

> _And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you._ _  
> _ \--Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

 

_i. the one where it’s complicated_

 

Jake doesn’t have to know, no one ever has to know, because it doesn’t mean anything. The way his hands grip her thighs as he lifts her onto the council table doesn’t mean anything--it’s not a conscious choice that he does it hard enough to make her buck against him but brief enough that her husband won’t see his fingerprints in blues and purples on her soft white skin.

 

Abby doesn’t have to think about it, she doesn’t have to worry that someone else will see the red lines her nails leave down his back and start asking questions. Marcus is by no means gentle, not when he tugs her hair back to bare her neck to his hungry mouth, not when he sucks and bites lushly at her hard, peaked nipples after roughly shoving her shirt and bra down far enough that he can get to them. He’s just careful not to leave a mark.

 

Oh, but he wants to. He wants to see himself all over her--if he could he’d leave her collarbone a mess of red and purple bruises and bites--he wants to break her perfect porcelain skin and leave it stinging hours later. He wants her to still feel where he touched her when she lays down at night and when she goes to work in medical the next day.

 

Instead he settles for making her come so hard that she’ll be thinking about it all week, she’ll be thinking about the way he brought her off with his mouth when he smirks at her on the way to work. He knows it’s what she thinks about when she picks a fight with him in the middle of a council meeting. It’s always the same, it always starts with yelling. Sometimes she doesn’t even know what they’re fighting about.

 

They’d drowned everyone out today--it had escalated so far that Jaha needed to end the meeting early as they glared at each other from across the table. Nothing else was going to get accomplished with them seething at each other, unable to listen to reason over their anger and lust. And as the rest of the council filed out of the room, it didn’t even matter what they’d been fighting about. It never mattered when she looked at him like that, chest heaving and eyes flashing.  

 

“Work this out before I see either of you again, and do it before you take it out on some poor unsuspecting soul. Your behavior is unacceptable.” Jaha had practically spat his disappointment at them as he walked out of the room, the cold metal of the door echoing around the two of them as he’d shut them in alone.

 

It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong when she digs her nails into his shoulders and growls at him to:

 

“Fuck me harder, Kane.”

 

His hips snap into hers and she slides against the cold metal of the table her back pressing into the loose panel he’d slammed his hands against during the meeting.

 

“Shut up, Abby.” And he makes sure she can’t reply by covering her mouth with his own. It’s quick and rough and he tugs so hard at her lower lip he tastes blood.

 

She comes with a long drawn out groan and his thumb circling angrily around her clit. He follows her a moment later, thanking whoever’s listening that the metal walls of the Ark prevent them from being heard as he growls into her neck, his hips stuttering as he comes hard and hot inside her.

 

No one has to know, Jake doesn’t have to know that sometimes she can’t help but think of Marcus when he has her on all fours in their quarters. It doesn’t mean anything when she rests her forehead against Marcus’ sweaty shoulder to catch her breath, neither does the way she straightens his hair as he tugs her shirt back into place.

 

No one will ever know he loves her. And the way he never leaves her thoughts doesn’t mean anything.

 

* * *

 

_ii. the one where he married her_

 

He shows up around noon while she’s filling out paperwork with Jackson in the bullpen. He’s got coffee in one hand and a small box of donut holes in the other and she can’t help but laugh at her adorable husband. And she likes calling him her husband because it’s still new and he’s finally hers so she does it every chance she gets.

 

“Hello husband,” she says leaning over the counter as he bends down to steal a kiss.

 

“Hello wife,” he says it around a wide grin that she can’t help but reciprocate. “Do you have time for a quick break?”

 

She looks down at her nearly completed paperwork then over at Jackson to her right. He shrugs at her before rolling his eyes at her eagerness.

 

“Sure, I have plenty of time.”

 

She pointedly ignores Jackson’s smirk as she tugs Marcus into the on call room, locking the door behind her.

 

The coffee and donuts end up abandoned on the counter as she pulls him down with her on the small bed normally reserved for quick naps between late night shifts.

 

“Your coffee is going to get cold, Abby,” he says with his hands already halfway up her scrub top.

 

“I’d rather have you hot, now.”

 

She loves the way his wedding band feels against her skin as he slides his hands up her sides to push her shirt off. They’ve always had a healthy sex life but it seems now that they’re married she can’t keep her hands off of him. She loves everything about being married to Marcus Kane, from the way he makes her feel, to the weight of his ring on her finger, to the way his badge looks next to her scrubs on the floor.

 

He rolls her underneath him on the cot, takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and she bites back a moan. She has to be quiet at work--Jackson may know exactly what they’re doing in here but that doesn’t mean anyone else needs to. He sucks and bites at the skin on the inside of her left breast, marking her before he slides into her hot and deep.

 

“Can’t argue with that logic, doctor.”

 

It’s quick and dirty and he has to clamp his hand over her mouth when she comes to keep her from alerting the whole floor. When they finish she takes a sip of her coffee and it’s still warm. They dress and she pops a donut hole in her mouth before kissing him goodbye and sharing the box with Jackson.

 

Later when they page Dr. Abigail Kane to pediatrics and she feels her wedding rings hanging between her breasts, brushing against where he’d marked her while she scrubs in, she thinks she really could get used to being his.

 

* * *

 

_iii. the one with the kid_

 

Abby's 42 when she gets pregnant for the second time. It's a surprise, a scary, life changing, incredible surprise. She's worried about what Marcus will say, and how Clarke will feel, and how dangerous it is.

 

Well three months later, it’s still dangerous, but Marcus stays and Clarke is happy for them. She even helps Marcus move in and promises to help Abby decorate the nursery when she comes home for Christmas break.

 

Living with Marcus is easy; they’re comfortable together in a way she never saw coming. In the morning he makes her pancakes and talks to the baby like it’s actually going to answer back from the womb. At night they fit together like they’ve been sharing a bed for years--their legs tangle when they face each other, the ever growing bump of her belly cradled between them.

 

At six months Abby is constantly, insatiably horny. Marcus makes it his mission to keep her as satisfied as possible and practically takes up permanent residence between her thighs.

 

When Abby’s eight months pregnant she takes medical leave from the hospital and stays home, because what good would it do for the head of Obstetrics not to take the advice she’d give to any other mother. She cleans the whole house three times, and adds an entire wall of constellations to the nursery with Clarke’s help. Marcus rubs her tired shoulders and kisses her all over, presses up against her back at night while their joined hands drape protectively over their child.

 

Jacob Verne Kane arrives three weeks early, but in otherwise perfect condition. Clarke adores her little brother. Abby and Marcus bring him home to a room full of stars and a lifetime of stories about his namesake.

 

* * *

 

_iv. the one where she needs him_

 

She doesn’t want to hire him, not the cocky asshole she went to high school with, not the one that had gone off and left her before they’d even started. He’d joined the military, she’d moved on, gotten married and had a kid. But then her husband was killed in an oil rig accident and her daughter had gone off to college in New York and she found herself alone.

 

Abby isn’t a hermit, she works at the health clinic from 8-2 every weekday, and she does have friends. Raven and Octavia join her on her morning run when they were around and Callie calls to talk for hours at a time at least twice a week. But she finds that she rather liked being alone, and if it weren’t for Clarke’s horse and the two dozen acres of land overlooking the ocean that needed maintaining, she’d gladly stay that way.

 

She needs the help though, and like it or not Marcus Kane, newly returned Maui resident and retired Navy Colonel, is the only person offering.

 

“You can stay in the guest room. There’s no sense in you driving an hour up here and back each day.”  

 

He doesn’t argue with her on that and moves his few belongings into the room on the other side of the house.

 

* * *

 

 

They do, however, argue on everything else--from the type of feed that was most appropriate for the horse, to how to cook a steak. It’s often trivial and never enough to make him leave, but they bicker like an old married couple: snapping at each other one moment and sharing a drink in companionable silence the next. After a while the arguments slow to a minimum and they’re resolved in quiet concessions rather than shouting matches. They go from eating in separate rooms to sharing meals and conversation.

 

* * *

 

She runs along the beach every morning while he tends to his morning tasks at the house, but Marcus has the weekends off to do as he pleases and apparently it pleases him to surf less than a quarter mile from the small stretch of beach she’s come to think of as her quiet place. Abby notices him on her jog on the second Saturday after he’s moved in and something about his presence, here of all places, sets her on edge.

 

Abby doesn’t say anything to him, but three weeks later when Raven and Octavia join her, her days of being quietly hyper-aware of him are over.  She’s gotten used to watching him without company and finds she isn’t as subtle as she thought she was when Raven catches her staring.

 

“Who’s the hunk, Abby?”

 

“I--what? What are you talking about?” She stammers looking to her left at the girls easily keeping pace with her and catches Octavia rolling her eyes. Okay maybe she wasn’t subtle at all.

 

“You know, the sunkissed surfer god you’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes.”

 

“That’s Marcus,” she pauses for a minute, a bit too hasty in her initial reply. “He works for me.”

 

“Abby, are you fucking your gardener?”

 

“What? Octavia, no I am not! That would be completely unprofessional and inappropriate.”

 

Raven smirked at Abby’s completely overdone answer.

 

“Oh, so you just _want_ to fuck your gardener.”

 

“Shut up, Raven.”

 

* * *

 

It’s too nice out to spend Friday afternoon inside so she moves onto the deck with her paints and her canvas. At least, that’s her excuse anyway. She really comes outside for the view, no not the endless blue ocean in the distance, but the sweaty, shirtless Marcus tilling the small patch of land they’d decided to turn into a garden. She paints while he works, wiping her hands on her already paint splattered, ripped jeans. When the wind picks up her loose white tee billows around her and she’s momentarily grateful for the cooling breeze.

 

That is until the wind brings in a downpour out of nowhere. The thing about summer is that a thunderstorm can crop up with virtually no warning, and since Abby is arguably distracted and Marcus is hard, it’s fair that they don’t see it coming until the rain is already coming down. Marcus scrambles with the tiller, needing to get it back into the work shed so that it doesn’t rust in the rain. Abby abandons her painting, running out to wrench the heavy door open for him as he pulled the large metal contraption back inside.

 

Together they push the door back into place and secure the latch, breathing heavily as the rain comes down.

 

“Thank you,” Marcus tells her still standing by the door.

 

Abby nods, not yet moving back toward the house either, instead drinking in the sight of the rain sliding down the smooth skin of his chest. The rain picks up speed prompting them both to finally go inside. The dash towards the deck is quick, and they make it under the awning in record time. Her painting is wrecked by the time they make it up the stairs and at the sight of the drenched canvas, Abby does something that surprises him. She laughs. She throws her head back laughing at the complete mess and the utter ridiculousness of the last fifteen minutes. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you laugh like that,” he muses as they step under the breezeway that leads to the back door, finally out of the rain.

 

“I haven’t in a long time,” she says smiling at him before looking away.

 

“I’m sorry about your painting.”

 

When she meets his gaze again, there’s a different look in his eyes--they’re dark and hungry and as she watches him, his eyes slip down her body. She follows his gaze and finds her own peaked nipples clearly visible through her rain-drenched shirt. He wants her too. Marcus coughs, pulling himself out of whatever erotic daydream he’d been caught up in and moves to collect her paints and canvas, to bring them inside.

 

“Leave it,” she breathes, her tone low and raspy, as if she’d only just remembered she could speak.

 

He looks back at her and she backs towards the door, unable to look away; he moves with her.

 

“Abby,” he breathes.

 

“Just kiss me, Marcus.”

 

So he does. He backs her right into the door, burying his hands in her wet hair as she arches up to meet him. It’s all lips and tongue and teeth as he presses himself against her and she opens up beneath him, pulling him closer groaning at the taste of his mouth. As his lips trail down her neck she turns in his arms and moves to open the door. He moves her hair over one shoulder, not wanting to stop kissing her for a minute now that he’s started. She can feel him against her ass as he stands close behind her and she fumbles with the door handle before getting it open.

 

They get inside and she has every intention of taking him back to her bedroom, but they’ve only reached the kitchen when she looks back at him and decides she needs to kiss him again. She crashes into him again her hands on his cheeks, relishing in the feel of his stubble as she pulls him down to her. He slides his hands over the damp fabric of her jeans, cupping her ass and pulling her closer as she sucks lushly at his lower lip. When he lifts her up against him, depositing her on the table and kissing his way down her neck again, she decides the kitchen will do.

 

Marcus bites along her collarbone, dragging his lips down her chest and nuzzling his face into the low scoopneck of her shirt. She groans at the feeling and he looks up at her with a devilish grin. Before she can even ask, his mouth is on her breast, sucking hard at her nipple through the wet shirt that clings to her skin. The dual sensations of the cold fabric and his hot mouth are driving her insane and she buries one hand in his hair to anchor herself while the other attempts to undo the button of her jeans.

 

“Oh god, Marcus.”

 

She can feel herself getting wetter as he switches to her other breast, his hands helping her get rid of her jeans and underwear. Together they pushed the heavy material off and made quick work of his pants too. She licks her lips at the sight of him, his thick cock leaking and ready for her. Marcus strokes fingers between her thighs and she gasps, her back arching as she presses down against his hand.

 

“Fuck, Abby.”

 

She’s just as desperate as he is.

 

“Can’t blame _that_ on the rain,” she jokes and he laughs as he kisses her again.

 

She giggles into his mouth, but it turns into a sharp cry as he slides inside her, her legs wrapping around him pulling him in deeper. He stretches her and fills her and she can’t remember the last time something felt this right. He tugs her shirt over her head and unhooks her bra tossing them aside as he thrusts slowly at first, pressing her back against the table. The cold air inside sends goosebumps along her damp, naked skin and he chases them with his mouth, alternating between kissing across her chest and sucking her nipples into his mouth, scratching his teeth and stubble lightly against her flushed skin.

 

They find a rhythm that suits them both quickly and her hands cling to his shoulders as he plows into her over and over, sliding against the table. She kisses down his neck, relishing in taste of his skin, salty and sweet from the heat and the rain.

 

He kisses her again when she tightens around him and she gasps into his mouth as she comes. Marcus follows her a moment later, his hips losing their rhythm at the feel of her clenching around him over and over. The rain pours down all night and she drags him off to her bedroom.

 

The storm clears off by the next morning, but when Abby doesn’t show up for her usual Saturday run, and Marcus’ surfboard is nowhere in sight, they assume she found another way to get her exercise this weekend.

 

* * *

 

_v. the one where it’s real_

 

After Mount Weather, they’re nearly inseparable. It’s understandable, everyone’s worse for the wear and keeping those they care about just a little bit closer. She’s still the Chancellor, but for a while she’s confined to a bed in medical while her leg heals. He works with her, brings her everything she needs to keep the camp functioning. They build out the wall and the internal structures of the ark. Camp Jaha becomes Arkadia and together they grow it into an actual home for their people.

 

Marcus helps her with other things too, there aren’t a lot of spare hands to go around in medical so he takes point on her physical therapy, under the promise that he’ll use it on himself too. They work out the knots and the aches together in the healing muscles of their thighs and take walks through the grounds and the halls of the Ark each day. After a few weeks they’re both in better condition and Abby can walk around without needing help.

 

Some nights though, like tonight, her body betrays her and the muscles of her thigh seize up as she walks with him. She can hardly move without her leg singing in pain. They aren’t far from her quarters though, so he does the only logical thing he can think of--he scoops her up in his arms and carries her there.

 

“Marcus, what the hell are you doing?” She asks, though her arms are already wrapped securely around his shoulders, thankful for his strong arms taking her weight easily.

 

“Walking you to your quarters, Chancellor.”

 

They don’t run into anyone on their way there and she’s grateful. He opens the door with one hand and backs up into her room before depositing her gently on the bed.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers.

 

“Of course,” he murmurs in reply as his hands go to the traitorous muscle of her thigh and attempt to work out the kinks. The fabric of her pants is too thick though and he’s struggling to work around her pockets.

 

“Off,” is all he says and it comes out slightly strangled.

 

Abby arches her brow at him, smirking and looking for further explanation.

 

“You need to take your pants off. I can’t get this worked out and we both know you won’t sleep if you stay all tense like this.”

 

He’s right, she knows she won’t get any rest if she doesn’t let him do exactly what she’d taught him to do in this situation. She lifts her hips and shimmies out of her pants, tossing them gently toward her small closet at the foot of her bed. The tension in the room increases tenfold as Marcus goes back to work on her thigh. They’ve been moving toward something, since Mount Weather, but it’s hard to find time to have the “what are we” conversation when you’re trying to build a society.

 

Abby whimpers slightly as he works out all the tension in her leg, sweeping his hands along her skin and adding pressure in all the right places.  The ache in her leg eases slowly and surely, but his hands are still on her thigh, gently brushing his fingers against her skin. He moves his thumb across the small circle of a scar where they’d drilled her for her bone marrow.

 

“It still hurts sometimes. I know it shouldn’t, not really,” she trails off for a moment. “But sometimes it’s like I can still feel it.”

He knows exactly what she means. Sometimes he can still hear her screams when he lays down at night. They’re safe for now though and he’s thankful his quarters are right next to hers because when he wakes up on those nights knowing she’s just on the other side of the wall and he’ll do everything in his power to keep her from being hurt again. He isn’t sure what to say for a moment so he just brushes his thumb back and forth across the small scar that cost them so much.

 

“I want to make you feel good, Abby.”

 

He leans down and brushes his lips against the tiny mark and she gasps. Marcus stays low but looks up to meet her eyes, to make sure that this is okay. By the look on her face it’s more than okay, she’s staring at him with dark eyes, her pupils blown wide with arousal and her cheeks flushed.

 

“Please, Marcus.”

 

That’s all he needs and his mouth is on her again. He places an open mouth kiss against the scar and sucks at her skin, scraping his teeth against her gently, not hard enough to leave a mark. He switches to her other leg and gives the scar there the same treatment.

 

“Where else does it hurt?”

 

Abby sits up and pulls her shirt over her head and runs a finger along the line of her neck down to her shoulder and over her collarbone. He knows she carries so much tension there, old injuries coming to mind and the weight of their new world always bearing down on her shoulders. His mouth is there in an instant, tracing the line she’d marked for him.

 

She takes her bra off when he sits back slightly and traces a line over her heart and down between her breasts. Her heart aches so much these days, with Clarke gone and the threat of war looming beyond the walls, it hurts less with Marcus around though. He marks the skin over her hard, licking and sucking and teasing with his teeth. She arches her back up toward him and he kisses her so gently.

 

“Where else?”

 

She reaches down and pushes her underwear off, tracing a finger through her wet folds, the ache for him throbbing deliciously behind her clit. He buries his mouth between her thighs before her hand is even out of the way. He kisses and sucks at her clit, bringing her thighs up over his shoulders, squeezing gently.

 

“Oh Marcus,” she says his name on a breathless cry and buries one hand in his hair, looking up at her he sees the other tugging at her own nipples and he groans into her wetness at the view. He’s relentless against her clit so she comes hard and fast against his mouth and he drinks her in as her hips buck against his face. He kisses his way back up her body, his mouth trailing up all the places she’d marked for him. She whimpers into his mouth as she recovers and realizes as he covers her with his body that he’s still fully clothed. Abby pushes him up, immediately tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head.

 

“Take these off, please,”she says almost desperately. “I want to make you feel good too.”

 

He complies readily, stripping before climbing back into bed with her. She pushes him to lie on his back and brushes her small hands against the long scar along his own thigh.

 

“You’re lucky,” she says quietly, smiling up at him with her hand still tracing along the mark that nearly took him from her.

 

“Not that lucky,” he gives it back to her, remembering the way she wouldn’t leave him there. His eyes are alight with love and hope and so much faith in her, because he knows it wasn’t luck that saved him that night, it was Abby.

 

She smirks at him and her eyes drift back down his body. His cock lays heavily against his stomach and she licks her lips before she straddles him and sinks down on top of it.

 

“Fuck, Abby.”

 

His hips thrust up into her as she begins to ride him with gusto. She leans down over him as they pick up the pace, finding a steady rhythm. Her breasts press against his chest with the force as he pistons his cock into her over and over. His hands move from her hips to her back and brush against her shocklash scars. His hips stutter for a moment, but he picks their pace back up easily and moves his mouth against her neck.

 

“I’m sorry, Abby, I’m so sorry.”

 

He breathes against her as his fingers trace between the scars against the skin of her lower back, now extra sensitive in contrast.  

 

“I know, it’s okay.”

 

She pushes herself up just slightly so she can look at him when she comes, she can feel it building and he looks at her like she’s the only thing that ever mattered in the whole world.

 

“Marcus,” his name falls from her lips on a sharp cry, her back arching as her orgasm races through her, her hips snapping against his and her eyes holding his gaze.

  
“I love you,” she whispers as she tries to catch her breath as the aftershocks quake through her body. It sends him over the edge as he comes hard and hot and deep inside her. He says it back, over and over like a mantra as he pulls her close both of them breathing heavily. They curl up together, bodies languid and loose as he wraps his arms around her, one hand buried in her hair the other draped across her hip.  Abby rests her hand over his heart and as they drift off into a peaceful sleep for the first time in months, she thinks they really will be okay.

 


End file.
